


Fingersmith

by Barkour



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup's always been good with his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingersmith

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill, for [this prompt](http://httyd-kink-meme.livejournal.com/388.html?thread=127364). Finally de-anoning!

She cornered him in a small nook set into the cliffside. Hiccup surrendered willingly, without condition. Astrid smoothed her hands down his sides, memorizing the tick of each rib. His chest rose, steady and lean against her breasts, and he sighed long and sweet into her mouth.

The surf susurrated as it spilled onto the beach, and Hiccup tucked his thumb beneath her belt, stroking the curve of her hip. The calluses rasped against her skin. Astrid leaned back. Her hip itched, skin pricking. He withdrew.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup said, "I didn't mean to--we could just go back to the kissing, if you want," and she trapped his hand, pressing his palm flat against her belly.

"It's okay," she said. She stroked his wrist, the wiry muscle cording there. "Keep going." Astrid nuzzled his cheek. "If I want you to stop, I'll let you know."

Hiccup huffed a small laugh. "Sure," he said, "what do I need my hand for anyway, just--" And she kissed him again, swallowing the rest.

His fingers fluttered at her hip. Then softly, very slowly, he slipped his thumb beneath her waistband and fitted a finger in with it. The scrape of his thumbnail trembled through her. 

Astrid wound her arm about his shoulders and drew him nearer. She ran her tongue along his teeth. Hiccup hummed, melting against her. His fingers slid lower, cupping her thigh, then stroking up to trace the fold high upon her inner thigh. Astrid dug her nails into his nape.

"Ow," Hiccup said into her mouth, "ow, ow--" He twisted his fingers, hooking them between her thighs.

A spark lit in her. "Do not stop," she said. He'd calluses worn on his fingers, from long hours in the forge. "Don't you dare stop." She kissed the corner of his mouth, the scar at his jaw. "You could move a little, though."

He turned his head, his mouth warm and sweet and open beneath hers. Then he stretched one rough finger out long and slow, and crooked it. Astrid flexed her fingers on his neck. Her thighs tightened. He stroked once, sliding his finger just as lightly up to rest upon her small clitoris, and Astrid stilled against him.

"Here?" he said. Hiccup gazed wide-eyed and curious at her, his eyes startlingly green so close. "Like that?"

"I said, don't stop," she said. She touched his wrist again. "Keep going, unless you want me to kick-drop you into the ocean."

Hiccup smiled. His lashes fluttered; he looked up at her through them. "Well," he said, "if you insist." He looked down between them, his hair falling dark before his eyes. "Um, so if I did this--"

He stroked again, curling his finger so the flat of his nail rubbed blunt between her folds. Another spark lit inside her, joining the first. Her belly kindled, heated. Hiccup slid another finger down.

His brow furrowed. "Is it supposed to be wet? That's a good thing, right? I--mmph," he said, startled. Astrid nipped at his lip. "Ow," he said, but he stroked again, and then again.

He'd always been clever with his fingers if not the rest of him. Long years of tricky and sometimes delicate work in the smithy had taught him that. She'd seen him turn a hammer over in his hand, the shaft walking between his fingers as if through air, and thought of his hand at her breast, those fluttering fingers on her skin.

She pressed her cheek to his ear. His breath washed warm across her throat; his nose brushed her jaw. He stroked her, his fingertips rough against her ridges, fat in her opening. The suggestion of him lanced through her. Fire spooled in her gut.

"Yeah," she said, "like that."


End file.
